September,
It's almost you. I can feel you in my being, creeping up on me. I keep fighting the urge to check my planner once more, to tick off the days on my fingers remaining until summer breathes its last. The dread is different this year, though. Its more involved. Its not like other Septembers, where the only things in the back of my mind were text books, snotty professors, sweaters, football games and my mundane job. This fall is accompanied by a feeling that lurks, but does not show its face. Though unidentifiable as a whole, the feeling's contents are easy to pick out. It is composed of hurricanes, debt, gasoline, genocide in Darfur, children born with AIDS, the book of Revelation, and uncertainty about the near and the distant future. I can feel my shoulders being pushed down with the force of my thoughts and the slump becomes more acute the more I think about the fact that I'm thinking too much. I think if I were about twenty years older and cared just a little bit less, September, I would look into medicating myself.
Pharmaceutically yours,
Autumn Avoider
